Sarah almost jumped out of her chair. “I should go get some wine for dinner,” she said. “Do we need anything else from the package store? Or Stop & Shop?”
“Toilet paper,” Ronnie said. She reached for Sarah’s hand. “But hang on, okay? I want to talk to you two about something.”
Sam and Sarah exchanged a worried look. “Nothing bad,” Ronnie said quickly as Sarah took her seat. “Just, now that you’re both here, in person, I figured it was a good time.” Ronnie smoothed her fingertips over her eyebrows. “I spoke to Paul Norman a few weeks ago. We agreed that it’s the right time to put the house on the market.” Before either of them could reply, Ronnie continued, “I’d planned to leave you both the house in my will. I hoped you’d want to come here with your own kids, so they could spend their summers together.” She smiled sadly. “But I think that was my vision of summer, not yours.” She touched her eyebrows again. “I was going to tell you after the wedding, only there’s a couple who want to see the house on Monday, after the wedding. They’re only up here until the end of next week, and Paul thinks that they’re serious buyers, so…” She clasped her hands at her chest, sighing.
Sam tried to hide his shock, realizing that he couldn’t imagine his mother living anywhere but here. He didn’t spend much time at the Cape house, but he felt comforted knowing it was there; that he had a home, a place where they would have to take him in. He murmured something about how much he’d loved it here as a kid, how he wished he lived closer, how he and Connor would be here all the time if he did.
“Where will you go?” Sarah asked her mother.
Ronnie shrugged. “I’ve got time to figure that out.”
His sister’s expression was rueful and chagrined.
“I know,” she said. “I know we should have spent more time here. I know Dex and Miles are overscheduled. I know I’m turning into That Mom. I should just give them time to hang out on the beach and collect seashells, instead of taking them from cello to Hebrew school to Krav Maga.” She buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I know.”
Ronnie put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Honey, I promise I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. You’re a wonderful mother.”
Sarah continued as if her mother hadn’t spoken. “But every parent I know is like that. You have to give your kid every possible opportunity, and if you don’t, you’re failing them. You can’t not try.”
“It’s okay,” Ronnie said firmly. “Really. It’s okay. I understand. I’m just so glad everyone’s here, together. And I—” She looked like she wanted to say more as Dexter and Miles and Connor, appropriately swimsuited and sunscreened, came thundering across the deck.
Ronnie got to her feet. “Wait! Stop! I haven’t seen you creatures in one entire year! How about a hug for Safta?” Miles and Dexter ran to hug her, and over the din of the dog barking and Ronnie exclaiming how much the boys had grown, Sam almost didn’t hear his sister when she said, “I am a terrible human being.”
Before Sam could wonder at that, or come up with an answer, Sarah was on her way down to the driveway. “Let me get the lobsters in the fridge,” she said. “Then I’ll head out. Sam, can you watch the kids?”
Sam said that he could. When Sarah had gone down to the driveway and Ronnie was up in the kitchen, he walked to the edge of the deck and studied his brother-in-law, watching as, one story below him, Eli pulled grocery bags and tote bags and a set of golf clubs from the trunk. His brother-in-law looked the way he always did, maybe a little bit thinner. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothes clean and relatively unwrinkled. His wedding band winked in the sunshine. He seemed fine. But, of course, who knew better than Sam that you could keep a secret, one that completely altered your sense of yourself and the world, and not have any of it show, not even to the people who knew you best?
After lunch, and an hour spent unpacking, Sam and Sarah took all three boys down to the beach.
“So,” Sam said, when the boys were taking turns pushing each other around on the paddleboard. “Enjoying the guilt trip?”
Sarah shook her head. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail. It made her look young, even though she’d traded her bikinis for a conservative swimsuit with a skirted bottom, the kind of thing their mother had once worn. “She’s right, though. I bet the boys would be happier here, doing nothing, than they are in Brooklyn, doing everything.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at a parasailer, gliding over the bay. “I know I’d be happier if I were here.”